Two People
by The Keddster
Summary: A thumb strokes tenderly over rapidly warming skin. A gentle, seemingly ordinary touch except it's not... it's extraordinary, because it's them. Short one-shot.


A/N: I forgot this story, barely remember writing it but it was definitely sometime in Season 4 - before Caskett existed anywhere other than the world of fanfiction and the brilliant mind of Andrew Marlowe... and way before I was brave enough to post anything. In a bit of a writing slump right now, so thought I'd share this early effort. I only changed bits and pieces so it would reflect the events of 'Always'.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my imagination and the words it produces. Credit for the characters goes to people far more talented than me.

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**Two People**

Two people, alike in all the ways that count. Smart, dedicated, caring, determined, and both sharing an immense capacity for forgiveness; a trait recently tested, almost beyond its limits. And yet they are polar opposites in so many ways. He's extroverted, childlike in his enthusiasm and his belief in _magic_, irrepressibly optimistic and he wears his heart on his very expensive sleeve; often unable to keep his thoughts or his feelings to himself. She can be serious, brooding and introverted, is not always quick to see the 'cup-half-full', she's guarded, over-thinks and internalises, shuts down emotionally and wears her heart securely shielded behind a wall born of grief, betrayal and pain.

She uses the wall around her heart to keep him at arms-length, but he has willingly and unrelentingly chipped away at _it _and at her resolve, with his generosity, support and kindness, with his daily coffee and ultimately with his words. His words, the most poignant of which have only ever been shared in tearful desperation; the first time in a pool of blood under the glare of a too bright sun on a terrifying and devastating day, the second time, tearfully and desperately in an attempt to save her - from herself, from the danger she's hell-bent on running recklessly into, and to save _them,_ their unresolved but undeniable connection.

When she once again faces death, alone this time, literally _hanging on_ for dear life, her worst fear is realised; she's going to die and he will never know… know that she loves him, deeply and interminably. And as her fingers slip from their desperate grip on the roof, as she screams his name, the last of her wall shatters, along with her heart.

Then, as she sits in the rain, every long-denied and staunchly-repressed feeling bubbles to the surface, as powerful and unstoppable as the storm that rages around her and in the midst of the torrent, a sense of calm settles over her; a feeling of inevitability and peaceful certainty, all-consuming and irrefutable, and it leads her directly to his door.

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Two people, stunned, heartbroken, hopeful. One craving forgiveness, the other angry, confused but desperate to believe that this is actually happening. Regret, determination, anger and absolution all swirl in a melting pot of long-repressed need and escalating passion. Frantic touches and fervent kisses speak the unspoken, and when hands slow, mouths gentle and eyes meet, the answers to unasked questions are obvious in the depths of passion-darkened eyes and softly upturned lips.

Fingers entwine, bodies and souls are laid bare, and an age-old dance begins. It's tentative yet demanding, it's wild but it's gentle, playful yet careful; it's everything they ever imagined and _more._ As gazes lock and two bodies become one, the words come; whispered apologies, impassioned utterances, gentle teasing, and unsurprisingly, their oft-spoken promise of _always. _

It changes everything, yet so much is the same and it's amazing. They have taken the final step, given in to the longing, the passion, the _need_, and it's perfect.

* * *

Two people, naked, face-to-face, gazes locked. Blue eyes meet green and neither can look away. Respirations are shallow, rapid, pulses thudding harder than they should, given the lack of discernible movement. In fact, the _only_ movement at all in the room, other than lazily floating dust particles illuminated by the first slivers of morning light, is the rise and fall of sheet-covered chests and the soft blinking of sleepy, awe-filled eyes. That is, until a small hand reaches up to tentatively stroke a stubble-covered cheek.

The silence is broken then, by a deep, gravelly sigh - the release of a breath not consciously held; but a sign of overwhelming relief. A rough cheek is pressed firmly against a soft palm and cants into the connection as a thumb strokes tenderly over rapidly warming skin. A gentle, seemingly ordinary touch except it's not. It's _extraordinary, _because it's _them_, and it's new, and it represents so much… a silent acknowledgement; _we're finally here, together, no regrets and neither of us is going anywhere. _It's laden with promise, tenderness, with deep emotion; a tactile expression of feelings only just beginning to be spoken aloud. It's as intimate a connection as the fusion of their bodies only hours earlier.

Partners, best friends and now lovers; two souls already inexplicably tangled in an intricate web of emotions and events that have gradually connected, complicated and changed their lives. They are already in a _relationship_, have been for years now, and in the warm, brightening light of a new day, as they press closer to each other, as gentle touches begin to fan the smoldering embers of their passion, they boldly and resolutely ignore their fear. They use the other's touch to anchor them to their new reality because they are both so grateful to _be _here and neither one can imagine life without the other... especially now.

**Thanks for reading, and reviews of course are always appreciated.**


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